


A Fleeting Dream

by casualsamurai



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-21 11:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12456688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualsamurai/pseuds/casualsamurai
Summary: A collection of one-shots detailing Koume Yukimura's time with the Shinsengumi. Yukimura/Hijikata centric, with appearances from everyone else.





	1. July 1864

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, the more I like a series, the longer it takes for me to write for it XD I've been wanting to write Hakuouki for years and Kyoto Winds finally gave me the push I needed. Koume is my OC Yukimura from the game.
> 
> (A small note on spelling: After struggling for about three days over the fact that I absolutely can't see "Souji" spelled as "Sōji" (it's the weirdest visual block, I blame the years I've spent staring at his name on the game screen) but I also can't see "rōnin" spelled as "rounin," I decided to fuck it and just go with the spellings as given on the official Idea Factory website. Which also happily solved the problem of "Sanan" vs. "Sannan" and the confusion regarding his official title XD)

It had been a little over two hours – or so she had been told by the man who had just brought her another handful of dirty rags passing as bandages; the bleeding from Heisuke-kun’s forehead just wouldn’t _stop_ – since she had taken to the nighttime streets of Kyoto, her legs burning and her chest sharp with pain.

Koume Yukimura found it hard to believe. The tiredness that had seeped into her bones at some point during the raid, heavy and stubbornly refusing to be shaken off, made her feel as though it had been far longer. It seemed like it had been on another day altogether when she had been standing out on the street with Yamazaki-san, silently watching Hijikata-san single-handedly keep the government soldiers out of the Ikeda Inn.

...

_“You really think you can fit all these men in there?” the Vice-Commander viciously bit back at the government official’s outraged protests. “There’s a fight going on, you know. If you value the lives of your men, I suggest you stay put.”_

_That was when the scent of blood hit her – warm, coppery, drifting on the air like some gruesome fragrance, and with calls for a medic hard on its heels._

_Yamazaki-san, after a brief glance at Hijikata-san, ran off towards the men that had just emerged from the back of the building carrying two wounded soldiers, the black tails of his mask and head guard trailing behind him._

_Koume, suddenly feeling exceedingly useless, also turned to look at the Vice-Commander. He showed no indication that he saw her or her silent request for permission to go help. Standing like a statue under the moonless sky, he continued to stare down the government reinforcements, motionless save for the gentle flickering of light from the troops’ lamps playing with the shadows on his stern face._

_At the sight of two more injured men hobbling out of the building, she left her self-assigned spot and sprinted towards the inn, deciding to go and aid whomever she could – permission or no permission. She could apologize to Hijikata-san later, although that was, admittedly, always a frightening prospect._

“ _Are you okay?!” she exclaimed, her handkerchief held out in front of her as she screeched to a stop. Their faces were familiar, ones that she had glimpsed during her brief excursions outside of her room, although she didn’t know their names. The captains had forbidden her to interact with any of the soldiers, and perhaps part of her hoped that being of some use tonight would go a little ways towards repairing the men’s unfavorable – though completely understandable – opinion of her. “Use this!”_

_One of the men gratefully accepted the proffered piece of cloth and immediately pressed it to his arm to try and stem the bleeding. “I’m fine, but there’s still some wounded inside.”_

_Koume, if she were honest with herself, had no real desire to run into a slaughterhouse. She was already feeling slightly ill from the sudden exertion this evening after months of inactivity, as well as from the strong smell of blood that pervaded the warm, still night; she’d always had a particularly sensitive nose, and found even the mildest scents quite heady. Nevertheless, being already determined to help the Shinsengumi and not one to go back on her resolve, she steeled herself and walked through the door._

_Inside, it was pitch black. She stuck to the walls until her eyes adjusted, only to find the floor littered with dark lumps. Mouth going dry, she forced herself to not look at any of them too closely._

_Despite the initial protests from Nagakura-san and Kondou-san as to her presence, Koume was quickly accosted by Saito-san. Even in the heat of battle, the indigo-haired captain was as practical as ever._

“ _Can you treat the injured?” he asked, his pace unfaltering as he dispatched a man near the entrance before turning to address her. “You are the daughter of a doctor, after all.”_

“ _Yes! I can!” The words were out of her mouth before she realized they probably needed something of a disclaimer. “Well… I mean, I can do first-aid…”_

_Saito-san nodded. “That’s plenty. Thanks.”_

_As she started looking around to see where she was needed first, Kondou-san cut down another_ ronin _and called to her over his shoulder._

“ _Well, if you’re going to stick around, you should head upstairs and see to Souji!” Two more men swarmed him, and whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by the sounds of clashing steel._

_Koume, somehow – miraculously, without losing her footing on the slippery wooden floor that was slick with blood and sweat and no doubt other things that she really didn’t want to think about – made her way to the foot of the stairs._

_Nagakura-san appeared at her side, also looking up into the darkness. “Heisuke’s up there too. No idea what’s going on, but it didn’t sound good. Nobody’s getting past me here, so can you go check? Just to be sure!”_

_She turned to him, but her reply died on her lips once she saw that his left hand was drenched in bright crimson blood. “Nagakura-san! Your hand!”_

“ _Thanks, but don’t worry about it right now. Just check up on Souji and Heisuke!” the short-haired warrior brushed her off._

_Koume could tell just from looking that Nagakura-san’s injury was not life-threatening, and it didn’t seem to be impeding his ability to fight, so she nodded her understanding, making a mental note to treat it later._

“ _Yukimura, wait!” She heard Saito-san’s voice from somewhere behind her. “Wear this.”_

 _A large piece of white cloth was thrown at her and she barely caught it before it landed on her head. Straightening it out, she realized it was his_ haori.

“ _But, Saito-san– ” she began._

“ _We are killing anyone who isn’t wearing our uniform,” he explained quickly. “The men aren’t used to your presence and need to be able to see you in the dark.”_

“ _What about you?” she argued back._

_It might have been the dimness of the inn, but she could have sworn she saw a small smile appear on his typically expressionless face._

“ _I think I am a little more capable of avoiding stray blades than you are,” the Third Division’s captain answered, before plunging into the fray once again._

_He made an excellent point; one that left no room for any disagreement. So, Koume quickly thrust on the slightly oversized garment and took the stairs two at a time._

“ _Okita-san…? Heisuke-kun…?” She called out for them as soon as she reached the second floor, but received no response. Darkness and silence were the only things there to greet her._

_Were they not here… or…_

_She shook her head, firmly, and pressed on, her left hand holding tight to the sword on her hip._

_Hearing a sound in one of the rooms down the hall, she carefully inched her way inside to find Okita-san doubled over on the floor, throwing up blood; he lifted his eyes at her entrance and blinked at her blankly before falling unconscious, with a deafening thud that she was certain was etched into her memory forever._

_In the next room, she found Heisuke-kun – alone, collapsed on the floor, his forehead gushing an unbelievable amount of blood that was starting to pool around him._

...

She had stopped Heisuke-kun’s bleeding as much as she could with what she had to work with; Okita-san’s visible wounds weren’t too severe and she had cleaned and bandaged them, but she suspected he suffered internal bleeding and _that_ was something she was not equipped to deal with. All she could do now was watch their men place them on makeshift stretchers, both their faces far too pale for comfort, and carry them back home.

Several other soldiers came to see her for quick first-aid administration, but their wounds, thankfully, were minor in comparison to those of the two captains.

When the current of injured men finally ebbed, Koume stood up, slightly unsteady on her feet from being hunched over for so long, and looked at her hands. The sight of blood, she decided, didn’t bother her nearly as much as she thought it would, after all. She used to assist her father in his clinic, so it wasn’t so surprising. The stench of spilled blood and human bodies and sweat in a cramped, hot, humid space, however, was another matter entirely. If she never had to navigate through such a nightmarish landscape again, it would be too soon.

She wiped her hands on her hakama – it already had bloodstains on it and was by far cleaner than anything else around at this point – and dressed herself with her _kodachi,_ which she had removed for ease of movement while treating the soldiers.

It had gone quiet in the inn some time ago. The sounds from downstairs suggested that the fighting was over and the men were preparing for the trip back to headquarters, which meant that she should probably go join them.

“Oh, there you are!” Nagakura-san popped out of nowhere once she reached the ground floor, his uniform completely in tatters. “Thanks for finding Souji and Heisuke earlier. Yamazaki told me how great of a job you did treating them, you’re real quick!”

“Oh, no, it was nothing,” Koume replied, dismissing what she felt was utterly unmerited praise. “I mean, I dealt with many injuries back in Ed– wait! Nagakura-san, show me your hand!”

“Huh… ?” The man looked legitimately confused for a moment, and then lifted his left hand which was still dripping generously from the open wound. “Oh, yeah, I guess I forgot about it. Doesn’t look too bad, huh? There are plenty of men that have way more serious injuries, so go help them out instead.”

He had rejected her efforts earlier, too. But now the fighting was over, and she was not going to be dissuaded a second time. “No, Nagakura-san! I’m not leaving you here with that injury untended. Show it to me!”

Nagakura-san chuckled lightly at her demanding tone of voice and the sight of her furrowed brow. Raising his hands in surrender, he went over to the staircase to sit and held out his bloody left hand for her to examine.

“Look at this!” Her eyes widened in shock as she grabbed it, and she started wiping away as much red as she could in order to actually see the cut. “How were you able to fight with this?”

The Second Division captain gave a small shrug. “Heh, doesn’t bother me when I’m fighting.”

Shaking her head, Koume tentatively poked around the wound. She considered a couple of different approaches, biting her lip in thought, before settling on the simplest – and most painful – one. “Um, so… I want to see how bad it really is. This might hurt a little, but it’ll be quick, okay?

“Oh, that’s totally fine,” Nagakura-san replied, his face still bright and cheerful. “You can check it out all you wa– OUCH!”

He jerked his arm out of her hold with a loud yelp, his whole body lurching backwards instinctively.

“I-I’m sorry!” She had known that prying the cut open even further would be extremely painful, of course, but she hadn’t expected Nagakura-san, of all people, to react so violently. ‘Terrible’ didn’t begin to describe how she felt about it. “But I don’t think it’s down to the bone, so let’s treat this thoroughly when we get back,” she continued, cutting a piece of less-than-desirably clean cloth from the sleeve of her own undershirt and wrapping it tightly around the wound. “This is all I can do for the time being… sorry.”

“No, that’s more than enough. Thanks, Koume,” he said with a smile. When his smile wasn’t returned, Nagakura-san sighed. Her expression must have been pretty miserable, and he had likely – and correctly – deduced that she was fretting over the pair who had gotten themselves seriously injured. “You know, I’m really grateful to have you around. I know I doubted you a lot when you were first brought to the headquarters, but it takes some real guts for a girl to join us on our raids. And without you, we probably wouldn’t have gotten to Heisuke and Souji in time.”

“Oh, what’s this?” a familiar voice came from around the corner of the hallway. “Don’t tell me you actually managed to get this guy to sit still and get his wounds treated.”

Harada-san appeared – dirty, tired, but still managing to pull off a good-natured smirk.

“Shut it, Sano!” Nagakura-san complained. “You’ll make her think I’m unreasonable or something.”

Eyes glinting, Harada-san was about to reply – no doubt with a joke at his friend’s expense – when he was distracted by Saito-san’s arrival.

“We have finished making the arrests,” Saito-san announced. “The Vice Commander said to wrap things up, we are leaving in two minutes.”

“Got it,” Nagakura-san said, standing up and gingerly flexing his left hand. “What about Heisuke and Souji?”

“Yamazaki and some of the men took them ahead of us,” Saito-san answered promptly. “They should be almost at the compound by now.”

“Well,” Harada-san said, giving Koume a brief pat on the head as he walked by her, “let’s go join them.”

She nodded and began to move. The four of them had just passed through the front door when a sudden realization stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Saito-san, I left your _haori_ upstairs!” She had removed it, along with her _kodachi,_ before throwing herself arm-deep in blood and bandages. Not used to wearing a coat with her usual manner of dress, she had completely forgotten it and only grabbed her sword on her way out. Before the owner of the _haori_ had a chance to reply, she had darted off towards the stairs. “I’ll be right back!”

Running as fast as her worn-out legs would take her, Koume popped into the room where she had found Heisuke collapsed, grabbed the white coat, and made her way back.

She had only taken two or three steps down the stairs when it happened.

Nagakura-san, with his back leaning against the door frame and arms crossed over his chest, instinctively turned his face up towards the staircase when he heard her coming back, but his expression quickly changed from its usual ease to one of wide-eyed surprise.

Standing next to him, Harada-san readjusted his grip on his spear to that of a thrusting pose, frowning at something behind her.

Koume’s body immediately started turning, almost involuntarily, and as her right hand reached across her torso to grab her sword, she thought she saw Saito-san’s indigo hair darting past the other two captains and coming her way.

Before she even knew what she was doing, her _kodachi_ was out of its sheath and already above her head to the right, tip pointed to the ceiling after having struck a clean, diagonal line upwards.

Something spattered on her face – hot and sticky – and the man that had been standing behind her, sword raised above his head and ready to cut her down, crumpled, his body tumbling down the stairs.

After what seemed like an eternity, the body landed at the base of the staircase with a loud, final thud and rolled to a stop right in front of three pairs of feet.

Three sets of eyes slowly looked up from it and stared at her in silence.

Koume gave her sword a hasty flourish and sheathed it, the blade rattling noticeably on its way into the scabbard.

“I-I’m fine. I’m fine,” she reassured them, as she descended the stairs one final time. “Don’t worry about me, I’m perfectly fine. A-a-are we leaving now?”

 

* * *

 

“And that’s the long and short of it,” Shinpachi said, finishing his summary of the Ikeda Inn aftermath.

An impromptu meeting had occurred in the Vice-Commander’s room, as the officers who weren’t injured or otherwise engaged in their duties stopped by to give their reports.

“Right,” Toshizo said, rubbing his temples. The sun had risen some time ago and with it a new day had started, which meant no sleep for any of them. Lots of work to be done – on his end, especially – but still a victory for them. Better than the alternative. “Good job out there. Patrols are going to be a pain in the ass for a while, with Souji and Heisuke out and many still sick, but we need to maintain our presence in the city as usual. Saito, let your men rest for another twenty minutes, and then go out. And if any of you see Yamazaki, tell him I want an update on all of our wounded.”

With that, Toshizo dismissed them and turned back to his desk, to continue writing his official report to the Kyoto Judiciary Commissioner.

Pushing his glasses back on his face with a small sigh, Sanan-san stood up to leave the room.

The other three visitors remained seated, looking tentatively at each other; Saito sat perfectly still in _seiza,_ hands resting above his knees, while Shinpachi furtively gestured something to Harada.

“Was there something else?” the Colonel asked, in that deceptively gentle tone of voice that every soldier that joined their ranks soon learned to fear.

Toshizo lifted his head from his work, his long hair swinging behind him as he looked over his shoulder. “Well? Out with it. Don’t have all day.”

Saito cleared his throat. “We think that, perhaps, someone should speak with Yukimura.”

The Vice-Commander exchanged a quick, puzzled glance with Sanan-san. “Yukimura? What’s wrong with her?”

“She killed a Choshu guy at the inn,” Shinpachi said, rubbing his neck. “He was hiding on the second floor, even though we thought we’d cleared everyone out. She ran back inside to grab Saito’s _haori_ and he attacked her.”

“He probably thought Koume was the only one still there,” Harada added quietly.

Unable to keep surprise off of his face, Toshizo simply blinked at the three of them, the brush in his right hand suspended over the paper in front of him. Being at a loss for words was not a position he often found himself in. Out of all the things he had expected them to say – and past experience had taught him to expect a fair amount – this hadn’t even been on the list of possibilities.

His fellow officer, on the other hand, had no problem expressing his opinion, disapproval evident in the coldness of his tone. “You actually let her engage in combat?”

“Of course we didn’t let her!” Shinpachi countered. “It happened too fast. The girl has some crazy reflexes.” He folded his arms across his chest and sat up straighter. “Besides, Sanan-san, wasn’t it you who sent her out in the first place? You knew there was a high chance she’d have to fend for herself.”

“I sent her out as a messenger,” Sanan-san replied, his frown deepening. “I’m not quite sure what you are impl– ”

“At any rate,” Harada smoothly intervened, directing his words at the Vice-Commander. “She’s refused to talk about it. She claims she’s fine and she’s been working non-stop since. She doesn’t want to rest or eat.” He sighed, leaning back on his hands. “She’s clearly not fine.”

“Hm,” Toshizo remarked, finally putting the brush down and turning to face his companions, choosing to ignore the large drops of ink that had fallen on – and ruined – his half-written document. They weren’t her caretakers, _per se,_ and it wasn’t their job to ensure her mental well-being. That said, a first kill was a traumatic experience even for those on the path to becoming a warrior. “Saito, what’s your take?”

“It was an efficient kill.” The Third Division captain sat in his typically rigid pose, briefly closing his eyes as he spoke. “A remarkably well-executed _kiriage_ from the draw, given her complete lack of experience. Her form certainly could be improved upon, but I have no complaints about her reaction time or instincts.”

“Aah, Saito,” Harada began hesitantly, “I don’t think that’s really what– ”

“No, he’s got a point,” Shinpachi said, leaning forward over his crossed legs and scratching his chin. “Now that I think about it, the guy died instantly, didn’t he? A cut from the draw like that shouldn’t be able to kill a man in one strike, it doesn’t have enough power behind it. Hell, I don’t think even I can kill someone with that cut, and I’m way stronger than a small girl!”

Toshizo tuned them out, pinching the bridge of his nose. Good to know that she could handle herself, but Harada was right – the last thing they needed were hysterics.

“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly called out from the hallway. “I’m coming in.”

Yukimura – still dressed in her bloodied clothes from the night before, like the rest of them – slid the door open, bowed, and entered.

“Kondou-san sent me,” she said once she raised her head, her eyes seemingly fixed on a vague point somewhere between the floor and the back wall of the room. “He’d like for one of you to go fetch a doctor. Yamazaki-san is doing all he can, but both Okita-san and Heisuke-kun are still in critical condition.”

“I’ll go,” Harada volunteered, immediately standing up and reaching for his spear.

Shinpachi also got up. “I’ll go with you. There might be Choshu ronin still lurking on the streets. That okay?”

Toshizo nodded at him, his gaze still trained on Yukimura. Physical appearance aside – and he suspected he looked just as haggard and dirty and worn out as she did, if not more; he was already dreading dealing with his hair – she seemed pale, and disconnected with her surroundings. Normally, she had no problem meeting their eyes, and tended to throw herself wholeheartedly into anything she was saying or doing. The boys were right. Someone would have to talk to her. Unfortunately, he knew exactly who that someone would be.

“I’ll prepare for patrol, then,” Saito said with a short bow. He followed the other two out.

Sanan-san also walked towards the door. “I suppose I will go see if there’s any aid I can offer Yamazaki-kun in the meantime. That is, as much as a one-armed man can.”

Following the Colonel’s by-now-expected self-deprecating remark and exit, Yukimura found herself alone in the Vice-Commander’s room. She stood there, awkwardly, for a moment longer, before bowing and making to leave as well.

Toshizo decided now was a good a time as any. “Yukimura.”

She spun around on her heel. “Yes!”

“Heard what happened,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“O-oh,” Yukimura replied. She fidgeted as she tried to string words together, though whether it was due to recalling the incident or because of his unwavering attention on her, Toshizo couldn’t be sure. “T-that. Yes, it– it was… an experience. A-and... unpleasant. But I’m fine now!” She nodded, as though to convince herself. “Thank y-you, Hijikata-san. F-for your concern.”

Stammering to a stop, she bowed again and hurried to leave, but halfway out the door she froze, one hand clutching the door frame and the other pressed tightly against her mouth.

As though having expected this all along, Toshizo swiftly left his desk and pulled her back into the room, sliding the door shut behind her.

The girl doubled over on her knees and vomited. Her whole body shaking, she emptied out the meager contents of her stomach quickly, but the violent heaving continued, her torso lurching forward in painful contractions.

Toshizo knelt beside her. With a level of gentle care he rarely displayed, he held her hair out of the way.

She usually kept it in a short ponytail, but it must have come undone sometime during the raid, he observed. Though the tie was still there, a good portion of it had spilled out and hung loose past her chin. Back when they had found her, her hair had been a short messy mop that had stuck out from her head, with bangs that had barely reached her eyes. It had made her disguise a little more convincing, but not by much. Had it really been half a year since then?

Running his fingers through her hair again to try and restrain the stubborn strands that insisted on slipping through his grasp, Toshizo realized, with a start, that it was coarser than he’d expected.

“Th-thank you... Hijikata... san,” Yukimura choked out in between short gasps of air, the heaving finally subsiding. She reached her hands up, shakily, to hold back her hair by herself, her fingers briefly brushing against his as he slowly removed them. “I’m… I’m okay now.”

She tried to stand up but only managed to get halfway before her legs gave out and, with a cry, she fell back down.

Toshizo frowned at her. “Don’t be stupid. Stay until you’re better.”

Yukimura made a weak sound of protest, but one glare was all it took for her to give in and she nodded. Satisfied, he got up and fetched her a cloth to clean herself up with and a cup of water.

She avoided looking at him as she reluctantly accepted them, her eyes cast downwards. “I’m so sorry. About the mess. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up right aw– ”

“Leave it,” Toshizo said, starting to walk back to his desk. Despite his experience with women, he had absolutely no idea what a girl needed in a situation like this – a situation she should never have been put in, in the first place. So he offered her what he would want in her position: space. “Not a big deal. We’ll clean it later.”

“But– !” She flung her head up, stray wisps of hair flying around her face.

“ _Later,_ ” he repeated, more forcefully. Standing up straighter, with arms crossed and stuffed into his sleeves and feet spaced apart, he stared her down, as though physical intimidation might help get his point across better.

Yukimura held his gaze and, a moment later, burst into tears.

She hid her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, shoulders trembling. “I-I’m so p-pathetic. I’m the one who ran in there... wanting to help... and n-now... I… I’m like this! Y-you m-must think I’m... really weak. I’m s-sorry, I’m so sorry... ”

Her repeated apologies dissolved into incoherent mumbling as she rocked back and forth on the _tatami_ floor: suffering from delayed shock, scared, no doubt extremely embarrassed at her outburst but unable to stop herself from letting it run its course now that it had started.

Toshizo sighed and, after some quick consideration, went and knelt down beside her again. Truth be told, Sanan-san was a lot better at this comforting thing; or used to be, at least. Or Kondou-san. Harada and Heisuke, too, for that matter. Hell, anyone was a better candidate than him.

His initial instinct had been to hold her, tightly, until she had cried her fill, but he suspected that her mortification at such contact would only make her feel worse. Instead, he lightly placed a hand on her back, in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “If you hadn’t reacted like this, that’s when I would worry.”

Her crying abated as his words slowly sunk in. Hesitantly, and from behind her fingers, Yukimura looked at him in confusion with tear-stung eyes.

“No one is unaffected by their first kill, no matter what they say,” Toshizo explained patiently. _Not even green-eyed brats who think they know better than everyone else,_ he added mentally, wishing he could forget that dark, tense night that – though it felt like several years had passed – had been not so long ago. “Not unless something is very wrong with them.”

The girl wiped at her face, sniffling. “Even you, Hijikata-san?”

He snorted. “Of course. I’m no exception. But,” he continued with a wry look, “you’d have to get me _very_ drunk to get that story out of me.” Yet another unpleasant memory that he could do without – both the incident itself and his own, very private aftermath – but there was no need to alert her to that.

She let out a small giggle, despite herself. The shudders stopped soon after that.

 _Good,_ Toshizo thought. He let his hand linger a little longer, and then, pointedly ignoring the fact that he found himself surprisingly reluctant to get up, stood and returned to his desk one more time.

Having calmed down enough, Yukimura finally drank some water and, dabbing one end of the cloth in the cup, proceeded to wash her face.

A few minutes passed by in silence, during which Toshizo futilely attempted to clean the ink stains off of his report. The only sound in the room was the stubborn wiping of paper on paper, and the morning light filtering softly through the paper panels of the door bathed them both in a moment of peace that did wonders for Yukimura’s mood. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

“Hijikata-san,” she said quietly, as if hesitant to disturb the first calm spell they’d had since they arrested Furutaka the day before. “You – you won’t tell the others? About this?”

He looked up in mild exasperation, only half of which was due to the now-crumpled and discarded piece of paper on the floor. “Why do you think I closed the door, genius?”

Her face lit up immediately, and she bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Hijikata-san!”

“Yukimura,” Toshizo said, in the tone that he used for commanding his men.

“Yes!” She jumped to attention, instinctively straightening her posture.

“Go rest,” he said. At the frown starting to spread on her face, he held up a hand. “It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. I don’t care if you can’t fall asleep. Just lying down is good enough.”

“Yes, Hijikata-san.” The response was muted, and extremely half-hearted.

Toshizo sighed again, closing his eyes. “You’re just going to go work anyway.”

“I _am_ planning to rest,” Yukimura answered, as she stood up. Her legs were much steadier than before, and that peculiar brand of deference mixed with unyielding obstinance had returned to her voice. “ _After_ taking care of all the things that need to be done. Just like Hijikata-san.”

“Hey– !” Before he could reprimand her, she had already bowed quickly and darted out of the room.

“I’ll start by cleaning that up!” Her footsteps, light and hurried, faded down the hall.

Toshizo chuckled quietly, letting his apparently growing fondness for her show briefly on his face. Definitely an Edo woman.

A fresh piece of paper set out on his desk, the Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi picked up his brush, loaded it with ink, and, with one last look at the door, settled down to write this damn report.

She was going to be fine. They all would.


	2. March 1868

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of one-shots detailing Koume Yukimura's time with the Shinsengumi. Yukimura/Hijikata centric, with appearances from everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. *slight spoilers for the Common Route in Edo Blossoms.*  
> 2\. Okay, I lied, I'm not even going to attempt to write these in chronological order; it's going to be just as they come to me XD  
> 3\. To any of my readers who are also reading 6: I will be polishing chapter 10 now that this is out of my system. Enjoy!

Almost a full month had passed since the Shinsengumi had received the news – along with their Chief, newly healed and supposedly fit enough to rejoin the troop – that they would be leaving for Kofu Castle.

Almost a month since she had been dismissed.

Koume sighed at the thought, and flopped unceremoniously on a cushion in the main sitting room. A tiny cloud of dust rose half-heartedly to disperse in the waning afternoon light, unsettled by her weight, the now-last remnant of the place’s state of disrepair.

She drew her knees to her chest, propped her head on them, and wrapped her arms around her legs.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand where Hijikata-san was coming from. She did, and it was only because she knew firsthand the kind of pressure he was under – and absolutely refused to be yet another stressor for him – that she had finally relented; after the dozen or so arguments they had had on the subject, of course.

It was just that, after so many years and everything they had all been through together, it stung.

…

“ _There’s a good chance it’s gonna end up like Toba-Fushimi,” Hijikata-san stated, in no uncertain terms. “I can’t have you out there.”_

_He had called her into his room one day in early February, voice tense and face hardset, and she had known instantly; perhaps her demon blood gave her a sixth sense, or perhaps she had just been around him long enough to be able to tell._

_She balled her hands into fists. “I know I can’t fight on the front lines, but I can help in other ways! I can treat the wounded, carry messages, carry supplies, make food – I’ve always helped out, haven’t I?”_

_The Vice-Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, a slightly pained expression on his face. “Yes, but this is different, this time –”_

“ _When did I ever get in the way?!” Koume exclaimed, her frustration finally getting the better of her._

_Hijikata-san’s head snapped up. “Hey, don’t put words in my mouth!” he yelled back. “I never said you got in the way.”_

“ _It’s what it sounded like,” she said sullenly, and folded her arms. She knew full well that she was pouting, but she simply couldn’t find it in her to care. Surely, she was allowed this one temper tantrum. Okita-san would have been amused, had he been here to witness it._

“ _Look, Koume,” Hijikata-san sighed and lowered his voice. “I’m not going into this battle thinking we’ve already lost, but I need to be prepared for all eventualities. What we saw a month ago is the new way wars are being waged, so I’m half-expecting a fucking bloodbath here –”_

 _Koume planted her hands on the floor and leaned forward, as far into her commander’s space as she felt she could justify_. _“That only makes me want to be there to support you even more!”_

“ _You don’t have a good reason to be out there, and, without one, I can’t let you.” He swirled around in his seat, turning his attention to the pile of documents sitting on his desk. “A battlefield is no place for a girl.”_

_Biting her tongue, hard, she changed tactics. “Who is going to take care of the Fury Corps if I’m gone?” If she let herself dwell on what he had just said – that he believed she had no reason to be among them – she thought she would scream. Or cry. Or, more likely, both, and to her utter mortification._

“ _The Fury Corps isn’t coming with us,” Hijikata-san said briefly, not even bothering to look at her._

_He clearly hoped that she would just leave, and, by leaving, sign her resignation. She had other news for him. “Okay, so I can stay behind with them, here, and continue to –”_

“ _No.”_

“ _Why_ not? _” Koume pressed._

_She supposed there was Souma-kun; she had trained him up and he had been made aware of the existence of the furies, but could he honestly handle all of their needs – well, all save one; one incredibly crucial one – on his own? Besides, he was already running himself to the ground with his duties to Kondo-san._

_Hijikata-san did not acknowledge her question. Eyes still firmly locked onto the papers he was sifting through, he addressed her in the coldest tone she had heard directed to her since that first night in the falling snow. “This matter is over. You are dismissed.”_

“ _But –”_

_He threw the papers he was holding onto his desk – the crack they landed with echoed in the room – and turned to face her, with the type of menacing glare that was usually reserved only for the grave offenders under his command._

“ _That’s an order.”_  

…

It didn’t help, of course, that she had grown accustomed to a life where she was kept constantly busy.

Laundry and cooking for a couple hundred men was no joke, even if everyone did help in shifts; neither was cleaning the headquarters, which had become significantly more expansive with each successive relocation. Hijikata-san, too, had grown increasingly dependent on her assistance with his documents and correspondence – at first very grudgingly, and only in terms of delivering the rare letter; and then regularly, at a set time on most evenings. It had been a gradual, unspoken agreement, one that even included her writing down what he dictated to her, on the many occasions when his own hand became too cramped to keep holding the brush.

And then there had been her sword training, first thing in the morning, as well as helping Souma-kun and Nomura-kun find their way around the compound and learn their duties. And, naturally, looking after the Fury Corps, whose meals and other needs had, out of necessity, fallen to her. She had been up long before the sun, even in the summer, and oftentimes still awake when the stars started to lose their brightness.

Koume was used to her days going by in a whirl, especially those of the past year or so, and to suddenly find herself with a lack for things to do was disconcerting, to say the least.

There was really only so much shopping, cooking and cleaning to be done for a one-person household. Reading was out of the question – all the books and papers lying around were inextricably tied to memories and emotions she had not sorted out yet. She could do some sword work, she supposed, but she had actively avoided touching her _kodachi_ since coming here; it would probably only force open the wound that she was still desperately trying to pretend wasn’t there.

The fact that she was now living in her childhood home, which had been abandoned for four years and built on – apparently – lies, only added to the surreality of her situation.

Koume flung herself back, head knocking on the floor, covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly.

A familiar voice, tired and a little rough, called out to her from the front yard, interrupting her thoughts.

“Koume, you in here?”

She sat up. Was she hallucinating? She had been thinking of the Shinsengumi so much, and of _him_ in particular, that she wouldn’t have been surprised to discover she was now hearing things that weren’t there. Their voices already haunted her dreams, night after night; haunting her while awake would only be the next logical progression.

“Hey, Koume!”

No, that was definitely not a hallucination.

“Hijikata-san?!” Koume said, leaping up. “Hang on, I’ll be right out!”

With a frantic burst of energy, feet barely touching the _tatami_ mats as she raced to the entrance, she reached the front door and slid it wide open.

The resounding crash of the panel striking the door frame went largely unnoticed by her, as she stared, speechless, at the person in front of her.

“What’s the dumb grin for?” Hijikata-san asked. “Is there something wrong with my outfit to you?”

“N-no, of course not…” Koume stuttered. “... it’s not bad – er, at all, really. It’s just…”

Truth be told, she had barely recognized him at first. Hearing his voice, she had expected purple _gi,_ grey _hakama;_ perhaps his light blue _haori._ And, certainly, long flowing hair, bound in a simple ponytail. All things that she had quickly come to associate him with over the past few years.

The well-tailored black suit and coat, in Western fashion and with gold trimmings, paired with tall boots – while not a bad look _in the slightest,_ she realized with a faint blush as she ran her eyes over him again – was, nonetheless, startling.

“Just what?” he asked brusquely.

The rough tone of his question left no doubt in her mind that the man standing before her was, indeed, Hijikata-san, no matter how strange his clothes may have been.

“Your hair…” she trailed off.

“Ah, yeah.” He lifted a hand and ran it through the short layers of hair that hung just above his shoulders. The rest, further back, was cropped closer to frame the back of his head. “Had to cut it. Still getting used to it, to be honest.”

Torn between mourning the loss of his beautiful hair and the sudden, inexplicable desire to comb her fingers through these new, short strands, Koume chose to remain silent, and she simply nodded in reply.

“Speaking of which,” Hijikata-san said, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re still in men’s clothes.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” she laughed lightly, fidgeting with her hands. Of course he would notice. “Yes, I… I tried wearing my old _kimono,_ but they’re not as comfortable anymore. I think I’ve just gotten used to this. It’s a lot easier to move in, at any rate.”

With an exasperated look, one hand on his hip, Hijikata-san let out a small sigh and closed his eyes. He almost seemed a little… disappointed. Or maybe she was just imagining things, because, honestly, she couldn’t think of a single reason why he should be.

“Well,” he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “To catch you up, we’re setting out for Kofu tomorrow. They’re totally modernizing the armies, starting with these new, Westernized uniforms. They’ve also equipped us with rifles and canons.”

“Mm, I see…” Koume responded automatically, nodding as he updated her on the latest doings of the shogunate and the Shinsengumi. These were the kinds of things he would be sure to keep her informed of while she was his page; she briefly wondered why he felt the need to do so now, and decided that, perhaps, it was just force of habit.

“It goes without saying, but our men were crushed back in Toba-Fushimi because of the Satsuma-Choshu’s advanced weaponry,” Hijikata-san stated quietly. “I’ll be damned if it happens again.”

He looked straight at her, and, as the creeping shadows of evening started spreading their fingers along the little-traveled street in front of her house, she could see the ghosts of Inoue-san and Yamazaki-san still lingering in his eyes, just as she knew they did in hers.

“You don’t think…” she said, hesitantly, almost afraid to voice her burning question out loud, “... that you will lose the next one, do you?” She had never been superstitious, but, then again, the Shinsengumi had never had much in the way of luck, and the last thing she wanted to do was to tempt fate. But she had to know.

Hijikata-san gave her a tired smile. “Can’t afford to. Times for retribution don’t often get offered on a silver platter like this.”

The curtness and sheer stubbornness of his response gave her some cursory relief that, under all the outward changes, he was still the same. And the illusion, feeble as it was, that despite everything, things were still the same.

With what she hoped was an encouraging look, the conversation began to drift off into silence.

“What’s her name, Princess Sen?” Hijikata-san asked all of a sudden, frowning. “She bother to contact you at all?”

“Yes,” Koume said, nodding. “She’s visited me a couple of times.”

“Ah. Well, good to hear,” Hijikata-san replied, his brow clearing. “I hear the two of them are sniffing around for a sign of Kodo, the slippery bastard. In any case, I hope you find him soon...”

“Right…” she agreed. Certainly, she had every intention of finding her father and demanding an explanation and, depending on his answer, possibly making an irreversible decision. That was the least she could do to try and begin to clean up the whole mess he had plunged the Shinsengumi into. But she would much rather have searched for him while being useful in the meantime, en route to other places; Kofu Castle, for instance.

They both fell silent, again.

How much longer they stood there, having by now fully run out of things to say, she couldn’t guess. Hijikata-san appeared to be as loathe to leave as Koume was to let him. The rapidly encroaching darkness hurried evening along, as it was wont to this early in the year, leaving a damp chill in its wake.

She shivered slightly, too lightly dressed for the incoming night air, and shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I should –”

“How about coming inside?” Koume blurted out, a little too loudly for the now-quiet street. Sheepishly, she lowered her voice and added, “I’ll make you some tea.”

“I appreciate the offer, but don’t have time,” Hijikata-san answered, his voice tinged with regret. He honestly sounded like he would have liked nothing better, and she suddenly realized just how tired he looked. “We’re setting out first thing tomorrow morning. Got to get back and make sure everything’s ready.”

His former page leveled him with her most severe, reprimanding look, one that he had become intimately familiar with on several occasions. “Come on, surely a few minutes won’t jeopardize the whole operation.” She paused, examining his face in the failing light. “The circles under your eyes have gotten darker.”

The Vice-Commander snorted, unexpectedly. “That would be because I’m doing everything myself now, including making my own damn tea.”

“You are making –?” Koume slowly processed what he had said. “You mean… you haven’t taken on another page?! What about Souma-kun? Or Nomura-kun?”

“Oh, them,” he chuckled. “No good. Those boys couldn’t brew a proper cup of tea if their asses were on the line. First time they brought me one, I thought I’d been poisoned.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, goodness, those two,” she muttered under her breath. Lifting her head again, she couldn’t help a fond, exasperated smile at the thought of her two former _kohai._

A small frown crossed Hijikata-san’s face, and when he next spoke, his voice was so soft and quiet that she could barely make it out. “I think… I think you probably spoiled me. Can’t find anyone as good as you.”

He cleared his throat again, this time looking off to the side. “Anyway, I should –”

“Hijikata-san, wait a minute!” Koume almost yelled and spun on her heel, darting into the house.

What he must have thought, being left like that – abruptly and without any sort of explanation – on the threshold, she didn’t know; nor did she particularly care, at the moment. Being as intelligent as he was, he could probably guess what she was up to, but she didn’t care about that either. Her mind was made up.

Luckily, travelling on her own and living with the men of the Shinsengumi as one of them meant that she didn’t have many possessions. Koume made a quick sweep of the house, grabbing her bag, stuffing her coin purse and two small mirrors in it, snatching up a coat, and quickly passing her _kodachi_ through her _obi._ With deft fingers, she tied up her sandals.

She ran back outside, barely a minute later.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Hijikata-san,” she said, as she closed the door behind her and walked right past him, out onto the street. “Let’s go.”

Hijikata-san didn’t move. Purple eyes narrowed to slits followed her progress, and the frown-lines between his brows that Okita-san always used to make fun of appeared, prominent as ever. “And where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Koume turned around. Standing tall and squaring her shoulders, she stood her ground. She had let him talk her into leaving once, and regret hadn’t released her from its slithering, oily grasp for a single day since then. She had betrayed her promise to Yamazaki-san once, and the guilt had been eating her alive. It was not going to happen again. If he wanted her to stay behind, he’d have to cut her down.

“Home.”

His eyes grew wider than she had ever seen them, and his right hand dropped from his hip to hang limply at his side. The greatly feared demon Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi remained utterly frozen to the spot, evidently unable to come up with anything to say in retaliation.

She turned away and started walking again, in the direction of the _hatamoto_ manor they were still staying at. “I can’t possibly let you just walk away when you look like this. The least you should be able to count on is having a good, hot cup of tea at the end of the day.”

Hijikata-san, shaken out of his stupor by her matter-of-fact voice, broke into a jog to catch up with her. His voice was still firm, but compared to a moment ago it had definitely lost its hard edge. “Hey, Koume! I thought we’d been over this, you –”

She waved him off, refusing to give him the opportunity to even finish a sentence. “I promise, I’ll only stay long enough until those two can make it properly themselves.”

There was silence and then, with a defeated sigh, he fell into step next to her. “That might take forever, you know.”

Koume looked up at him, brown eyes practically sparkling, and wearing the brightest smile he had seen in a long time. “Good. I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

It was fairly late when they returned to headquarters.

They had stopped to buy a few medical supplies (after successfully convincing the merchant to reopen the shop for them) that Koume recalled were running low. Watching her make her selection and haggle with the man, Toshizo had realized, with some trepidation, just how much he had come to rely on her. He was certainly no foreigner to medicine, but the upkeep of their medical stores had somehow fallen outside his purview. He’d had no idea they were running low.

He kept this bit of information to himself, however, as they made their purchase and continued on their way. She was already on fire today, apparently; no need to add more fuel. If she found out that he’d been about to set out for battle with a depleted stock, she’d never let him hear the end of it.

Despite the hour, they found the courtyard of the manor in a flurry of activity, as everyone busied themselves with last minute preparations for their departure in the morning.

Said activity swiftly ceased and redirected onto Koume, as more and more people realized she had returned with their Vice-Commander. They were separated as she was swarmed by people – captains and soldiers alike – who welcomed her back with loud voices, claps on the back, and beaming faces. He could have sworn that Souma and Nomura looked ready to cry before Shinpachi elbowed his way past them and they got lost in the crowd.

Toshizo had told the men who had noticed Koume’s absence that she would be staying behind in Edo to look after Souji, and it occurred to him that perhaps he should have helped her come up with a reason as to why that was no longer the case. After a brief, internal debate, he decided against it; she could handle herself. With a small shake of his head at the clamor his men were making, he headed towards his room.

Harada stood further back from the main entrance, leaning against the wall of one of the buildings with his arms folded across his chest.

“I thought you were going to give her all of our goodbyes,” he commented as the Vice-Commander walked by. A seemingly innocuous remark, spoken casually, but the smirk was evident in his voice.

Toshizo should have known better than to grace it with a response. “So?”

“So why is she back here?” the spearman asked, cocking his head to the side.

The black-haired man kept walking, not breaking stride or looking anywhere except directly in front of him. “Shut up.”

As he made his way up onto the _engawa_ and down a hallway, he could hear Harada laughing – a bright, full, open laugh that echoed through the darkness of the courtyard and seemed to chase the shadows back, just a little bit.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see several of the furies gathered, eagerly peering at and chatting about the commotion by the front gate. Sanan was at their head, smiling softly, physically holding back an excited Heisuke (much livelier, by far, than anyone could remember him being since drinking that damn serum) from charging headlong towards Koume.

In the privacy afforded to him by nightfall, Toshizo couldn’t help a smile himself.

Placing a hand on the door of his room to slide it open, he glanced back over his shoulder at her small figure.

He supposed they could stay together for a little longer.


End file.
